


All We Need (Is a little Bit of Momentum)

by fictionalaspect



Category: Bandom, Gold Motel, Panic At The Disco, The Hush Sound
Genre: Always-a-girl, F/F, First Time, Genderswap, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-13
Updated: 2010-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hush Sound did not tour with Panic! on the Nothing Rhymes with Circus tour. Brendon Urie is also not a girl. If you can roll with those two things, we're good to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All We Need (Is a little Bit of Momentum)

**Author's Note:**

> Written entirely for my own amusement and for that of boweryd who saved this from my dead WIP folder and (nicely) informed me that if I didn't finish it there would be dire consequences. Thank you also to ailleann23 for the last minute beta and stephanometra for the original inspiration and hand-holding.

"No," Ryan had said, "No, you'll see, we're going to subvert gender norms and shit. It's going to be great."

  


"I'm pretty sure girls have been wearing pants for about a hundred years now, Ryan." Brendon brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "They'd be more shocked to see me in a dress. I should probably just wear a corset or something. "

  


Ryan frowned, biting his lip, focusing somewhere in the middle distance between Brendon's face and the notepad laying on his lap, covered in scrawled handwriting. "Why don't we just wait for Spencer and Jon? They're coming back with food soon,_shit_, I'm starving," Brendon muttered. "We're not getting anywhere with this anyway."  


  


"What if you cut your hair?" Ryan said, suddenly, gaze sharp and fixed. 

  


"You mean like...?" Brendon held a thick lock between her fingers, pulling the ends up to somewhere around her chin and making an inquisitive face. "I mean, I need to get it cut anyway, but I don't see how..."

  


"I mean like,_short,_" Ryan said. "Would you?" 

  


"Huh," Brendon said, as Spencer banged through the door, arms overflowing with slightly-greasy paper bags and a cardboard four-tray holder jammed with drinks. "Oooh, milkshakes."

-_-_

\--  


  


Ryan raised an eyebrow in her direction as he sharpened an eyebrow pencil carefully, testing the grain of the wood with one fingernail. "I'm doing this for you, you know," he pointed out. 

  


"You are not," Brendon grumbled. "Artistic vision, my ass. My tits hurt, Ryan. I'm not even sure I can sing in this." Brendon glanced down and sighed. They'd had the corset specially made, but it wasn't, you know,_comfortable._The most it could claim was an increased range of motion and Brendon was already sick of it, three weeks into the tour. 

  


"Shut up and hold still," Ryan said mildly. "This is sharp."

  


Brendon raised an eyebrow but held still--she didn't like makeup, not really, had been fine with some smudgy eyeliner like the rest of them--but Ryan had said her outfit needed more_something._ They'd agreed that tonight Ryan could do his worst and Brendon would just shut up and take it in exchange for a 24 pack of Red Bull at the next highway stop and a general amnesty on the topic of Greta Salpeter.

  


("She likes you," Ryan smirked. "You should totally hit that."

  


"Ha-ha," Brendon had said. "You're a fucking riot." 

  


"Why not?" Ryan had said, one foot on his skateboard as he peered across the auditorium at the Hush Sound milling around onstage. Greta had her wild hair half-tamed into a messy bun, stray pieces still sticking up here and like a soft halo. She was wearing a grey tank top and warm-up shorts and Brendon was making a concerted effort not to stare at her hips. They were cocked slightly while she discussed something with a tech. It was distracting. 

  


Brendon tightened her hands on the handles of her bike. "She's not my type," she said, biting the inside of her lip._So far out of my league _was what she didn't say out loud._So, so far._

  


Ryan gave her an incredulous look. "Yeah, okay," he said.)

  


"Wait, hold up," Brendon said, ten minutes into Ryan poking and prodding at her face. Ryan frowned and took his hand away from where he was holding her chin to keep her face steady. Brendon snaked an arm behind her and to the right on the table, and grabbed a can of something that turned out to be Mountain Dew. "I'm_thirsty_," she whined to Ryan, when he just glared at her. "Seriously, I can shotgun this if I have to, I just need a drink." Brendon popped the can open and drank nearly half of it in one swallow, throat working furiously.

  


"Done?" Ryan said, eyebrow raised.

  


"For now," Brendon said. She settled back and raised a hand to poke at her hair, feeling around and making sure the bobby pins were all in place. The only good thing about her new tour costume was the hairstyle, as far as Brendon was concerned. She was crap at doing it herself but once Katie had pinned it all up, Brendon didn't even have to think about her hair. It was awesome. 

  


"Okay," Ryan said finally, after far too much time had passed. "It's done, take a look."

  


"...Wow." Brendon said after a few minutes of staring. "You do realize I look like a nineteenth-century prostitute, right?"

  


Ryan opened his mouth just as the door opened, spilling out Spencer and Jon and, surprisingly, Greta and Chris, into the dressing room. Brendon tuned Ryan out ("...no, it's about the fucking inverse reaction okay Brendon, we're contesting ideas on female sexuality, it's part of the whole_theme..._), grinning up at Jon when he squeezed her shoulder (hugs were out of the question at the moment, with the makeup and all) and raising an eyebrow saucily at Spencer when he tugged on her chin gently. 

  


"I like it," Spencer said, sotto-voice, underneath the sound of Ryan's monologue, which he had apparently expanded to include the room at large. Greta and Chris were listening to him, nodding wide eyed and hiding their smiles. "You don't like it?" 

  


Brendon screwed her face up in the mirror, feeling the pull of the unfamiliar greasepaint on her skin. "It's a little...much," she said.

  


"It's always a little much with Ryan," Spencer nodded. His eye makeup, she noticed, was red tonight, subtle and strange. She felt just a tiny bit jealous. "If you_hate it,_I mean--"

  


"I don't," Brendon said, immediately. It was true. She still felt strange in this costume, like she hadn't yet owned it, like it hadn't become part of her onstage, but she didn't hate it. It was actually kind of fun to stalk Ryan around the stage with all her skirts swishing--as long as she didn't trip over them. "I'm just getting used to it, is all." 

  


"Right," Spencer said, tugging at the sleeve of his frockcoat. "Next tour I'll convince Ryan you need to wear pants."

  


Brendon nodded, looking up to see that Chris and Ryan and Jon were heading out the door. Brendon wondered briefly if Ryan was still pissed and then decided she didn't give a shit. He'd get over it. He always did.

  


"So hey," Greta said, half smiling at Brendon and coming to lean next to her on the makeup counter. "I like the makeup."

  


"Really?" Brendon said, frowning as she tried to shove a bobby pin back where it belonged and not shove it directly into her brain in the process. "Ow, fuck, how do people do this every night."

  


"Here," Greta said, leaning over and fixing it with cool, dry fingers, pining up a stray piece of hair at the nape of Brendon's neck. "Oh, and you've got--" She turned Brendon to face her, leaning in and smudging with her thumb just under Brendon's right eye. Brendon looked up, like Ryan had taught her, and held her breath. "It got all fucked up," Greta said. "Do you have that pencil, I can fix it. You must have rubbed your eye."

  


"Probably." Brendon said. "Um, yeah, it's this one I think."

  


Greta nodded, shoving curls back onto her shoulders and leaning in, face intent. She steadied Brendon's face with one hand on her jawline and it felt nothing like Ryan's brusque, business-like application, Greta's hands soft and gentle on her skin._Shit,_Brendon thought._Shit shit shit._This close, Greta's eyes were dark and faintly amused. Brendon wanted to kiss her. 

  


"Okay, it's fixed," Greta said, leaning back a tiny bit but still far, far too close to Brendon for her general comfort. She leaned in again, smudging at Brendon's eye, drawing the pad of her thumb across Brendon's cheekbone. "Cool," Brendon said, faintly. "Thanks. I mean--"

  


"Don't worry about it," Greta said, and leaned in, kissing Brendon on the cheek. When she pulled back there was the faint shimmer of glitter on her lips. "I'll see you after the show?"

  


Spencer coughed, and Brendon jerked back. "Okay," Brendon said. "Yes. Absolutely. Awesome. "

  


Greta smiled at her, a flash of true amusement, a little bit dirty. "'kay." Brendon didn't think she was imagining the way Greta's hips swung slightly as she walked to the door and let herself out. 

  


Brendon let out a breath, inhaled fully for what felt like the first time in an hour. She caught a glimpse of Spencer through the mirror, flat-ironing his bangs and smirking at her. "That just--that_did_actually just happen, right?" she said. 

  


"Yup," Spencer said. "And I think you need to stop being a huge pussy."

  


"Suck it," Brendon said automatically. And then, "Yeah, okay." She reached for the rest of her Mountain Dew. Her throat was maybe a little dry.

_\--_

After the show was not a good time for Greta to come by.

"How is this shit even_possible_?" Brendon moaned, trying to twist around to see what Ryan was doing behind her. "I feel like I'm in a fucking straitjacket, you never told me these things were_dangerous."_

"It's not dangerous if you're not a spazz," Ryan said, frowning. "How did you even--You're not allowed to lace yourself up anymore, this is so tangled it's going to take forever."

"Awesome," Brendon said. "It's cool. I'll just be here, you know,_dying of asphyxiation_, fuck."

Spencer wandered by in a towel, already out of his stage clothes and heading for the shower just as Jon opened the door. "I'm jealous!" Brendon called out uselessly from behind him. "So, so jealous," she muttered, slumping back down on the stool. "'Fuck."

"Working on it," Ryan said. "The more you squirm, the more this is going to suck."

"Scissors!" Brendon said, sitting up suddenly and earned herself a smack on the shoulder and an unhappy noise. "Cut it off me,_cut it fucking off me,_shit, I'll pay for it, please please--"

"Do you have a thousand dollars?" Ryan said. "Because that's how much this thing cost. I think."

"You spent a thousand dollars on my corset?" Brendon said, gaping. "Are you--are you_insane?"_

"No," Ryan said. "Hold still, I think I've--"

"OW," Brendon said, just as Greta slipped through the door. She still felt like she couldn't breathe, but that was probably because Ryan had just done something that tightened the laces.

"Hey," Greta said, sort of gliding over, all showered and clean and not laced into a devious, Ryan Ross-created instrument of torture. She raised an eyebrow at the scene in front of her; Ryan still half in his stage clothes, frowning; Brendon in old, ratty basketball shorts and a bright red corset and a miserable expression. "Are you...okay?"

"Hi Greta," Brendon said. "Ryan, Ryan if my spleen explodes I'm blaming you."

"For fuck's sake, It won't--"

"Spleen. Everywhere." Brendon made the Ewok-Death-Star noises, just to make her point clear.

"Do you want me to--" Greta said. "I could try, I have smaller hands."

"YES." Ryan said.

"Wow," Greta said, when she'd moved to stand behind Brendon. "That's...wow."

"Told you," Ryan said. "I'm taking a shower, have fun."

"With Spencer?" Brendon said, raising an eyebrow. "There's only one stall."

"We'll bond," Ryan said.

"Yeah, bond with your_dick_in his--oh," Brendon said, feeling her ribcage suddenly settle back where it was supposed to be. "Holy shit," she said, twisting around to where Greta was still loosening the laces so she could slip out of it. "Holy shit, I actually love you."

"Yeah?" Greta said, with a small smile.

"Um." Brendon said, feeling a blush creep up onto her cheeks, facing forward so Greta couldn't see it. She swallowed. She felt so awkward, why,_why_was she so awkward? "For certain values of, of the word? I guess. Uh."

Greta leaned over Brendon's left shoulder, tucking her face right in next to Brendon's, hands still framing the curve of her waist under the corset. "You're cute when you get all flustered."

"You think I'm cute?" Brendon said weakly, biting her lip._Cute_. Greta had just called her cute and that was a good sign, right? That promised the possibility of makeouts. Brendon was so down for makeouts.

"Yes," Greta said, and then the weight of her pressed up close to Brendon's back was gone, just as quickly as it had arrived. "Now hang on, I'm still trying to get you naked."

"It's usually not this hard!" Brendon protested, and then wanted to die.

"....should I leave you two alone?" Jon put in from the corner, chilling on the couch with a magazine.

"No!" Brendon said.

"Maybe?" Greta said, at exactly the same time.

"Wait, maybe?" Brendon said, twisting around; Greta sort of half-smiled again and it was a little raw, a little hopeful. Brendon's heart swooped a teeny bit. Just a little.

"I changed my mind," Brendon said, still staring at Greta. "Jon, I will buy you coffee in the morning if you leave_right now._I will buy you one of those stupid double-shot espresso whatchama-"

"Leaving!" Jon said, looking suspiciously like he was trying not to crack up. He pointed at Brendon warningly. "Double espresso, on you. Tomorrow."

"On me," Brendon agreed quickly. "Now go away."

"Hi," Greta said, softly, as soon as the door closed and the only sound in the room was the_swish_of the shower from behind the bathroom door, the wizzing_burrrr_of Spencer's electric shaver.

"Hi," Brendon said back, grinning a little. It was a really awkward angle, though. "Um, let me just--" Brendon sort of managed to scoot herself around on the stool, until she was facing Greta and her neck wasn't like, trying to kill her.

"Okay,_hi_," Brendon said, and Greta kissed her. Her hair was soft and she smelled like lavender, and something spicy. Brendon wanted to fucking roll in it.

"I like your outfit, by the way" Greta said, laughing, once they'd managed to come up for air. "It's very avant-garde,"

"I like your_face_," Brendon said, and she knew she was probably sporting the lamest smile imaginable. "Come back, we were making out, it was awesome."

"Yeah?" Greta said, eyes bright and crinkled and happy. "Well then."

_\--  
_

  


Greta just had these amazing fingers, okay.

Brendon felt she shouldn't be blamed for her current position, which was laying on the couch with her head in Greta's lap, practically purring every time Greta scratched a particularly nice spot. "I think you're part feline," Greta murmured, staring out the window at the passing highway. Brendon made an uninteligible noise and nuzzled closer.

Every once and a while Brendon would catch a glimpse of her bus, sometimes ahead of them on the highway, sometimes behind. Once Jon had tried to moon her, but a car had passed between them and he'd ended up mooning a family of five, instead. It had been awesome.

Greta carded her hands through Brendon's hair, pulling out a few errant snarls. "Have you ever thought about just cutting it all off?" she asked eventually. "I bet you would look hot."

  


"Ryan wanted me to," Brendon said, yawning. The back lounge was dark and warm and Brendon was sleepy. "Way back before the tour. I think he wanted to put me in drag or something? But then he got the corset idea."

  


"Huh," Greta said. She grinned down at Brendon, a slow smile spreading across her face. Brendon's ribcage felt a little melty, even if they were still--well. Whatever they were.

(Brendon didn't want to deal with melty-insides if this was a just-a-tour thing, or a maybe-we-can-be-friends-later thing, or even a I'll-see-you-when-I-see-you thing. It was hard, though. Greta smelled really good and snorted when she laughed and had the most amazing thighs in the history of people having thighs.

Brendon maybe wanted it to be an oh-hey-you're-my-girlfriend thing. Just a little.)

"Do you have any scissors?" Greta was saying. "We could do it right now. They wouldn't know until the show tomorrow, if you're staying here tonight."

  


Brendon paused, thought about it for a moment. "Ryan would shit a brick if I did it now," she said, after a minute. "He would absolutely flip out, oh my god, it would be great." Greta snickered. "I'll need another mirror to do the back, do you have an extra?" 

  


"I can do the back for you," Greta said, scratching her short nails at the base of Brendon's skull. Brendon nodded, leaning up on her elbows to kiss her, and smirked against her mouth.  "This is going to be awesome," she mumbled, and she felt Greta's answering nod everywhere they were touching.

  


_\--_

"Why are we on a_bus,_" Brendon panted, throwing her head back as Greta licked a slow, wet line up her neck, "Oh my god, why are we on a_bus--_"

"Shh," Greta murmured, dropping the scissors on the sink and tangling one hand in Brendon's newly-cropped hair. She bit down just as Brendon arched up and Brendon's head_thunked_against the bathroom door.  

  


"Ow," Brendon said.

  


"Less talking," Greta said. "More--_mmmph_."

\--  


  


"We're not friends," Ryan said, pressing his mouth in a thin, tight line. "We're not friends and I hate you."

  


"I love you," Brendon said, trying hard to keep a straight face. "Ryan Ross you are my favorite forever and ever, and if you let this tear apart our star-crossed love--"

"_Star-crossed--?"_

  


_ "It's a love for the ages, " Brendon said dreamily, then clambered up on Spencer's back with an ease born of long practice and too much time spent pissing Ryan off. _

  


_"Ow, fuck, Ryan don'tpinch, that shit hurts." She dug her head into the back of Spencer's neck, snickering, trying her best to dodge Ryan's weak attempts at manhandling. _

  


_"Coward," Ryan said, frowning, arms crossed. Spencer was totally home base and that shit wasn't fair. He jutted his pointy chin out. "Come down here and fight me like a man."  
_  
"I'm subverting gender norms!" Brendon chirped brightly.

"You'll look like a boy in a dress!" Ryan said, throwing up his hands.

"And?" Brendon said. "You_like_boys in dresses. I'm advancing your artistic vision."

"Shut up," Ryan grumbled. "I don't believe you."

Brendon ruffled her hair again--ruffled, oh man, her hair was_so awesome_, Brendon should have done this years ago_\--_and grinned. "What if I got a top hat?" she said. "And_pants._I want_pants,_Ryan. I am holding out on you until I get pants."

"Holding out_what?_" Ryan said. "We're not having sex, in case you didn't notice."

"My love," Brendon said. "You'll shrivel up and die without it."

"We could probably--" Spencer said, then stopped, thinking. "We've got things that would work. We'd just need to take them in, but if we shortened Ryan's extra pair of stage pants--"

"You can have my coat," Jon said, opening another bottle of water. "I hate my coat."

"I don't_want_your coat," Brendon said, still perched on Spencer's back. "I want my own coat. And a top hat."

"Fine," Ryan said, rolling his eyes. "Fine. We're not making any money on this tour anyway. I'll--we'll figure something out."

"I win! Awesome," Brendon said, stealing Jon's bottle of water. Jon stretched up on his tip toes to ruffle her hair companionably.

  


"I'm a majority of one," Ryan said, sadly.

\--

Two weeks was far too long to be around someone as hot as Greta without any real privacy. 

  


Way too long. 

  


"Hotel tonight," Ryan mumbled, pouring milk into his cheerios. "Thank god."

  


"Gonna get laaaaaiiiid," Brendon hummed into her cereal, crunching away happily.

  


"Gross," Ryan said.

  


"Don't even," Brendon said, pointing her plastic spoon at him accusingly. "You totally jerk it to lesbian porn. I've seen you."

"Yeah,_Porn_," Ryan said. "As in, not you."

"Shut up, you think I'm hot."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

Spencer wandered out from the back, scratching his junk and yawning.

"Spencer," Brendon said. "Spencer, you think I'm hot and you'd totally watch me have sex, right?"

"I--what?" Spencer said.

"Say yes," Brendon said patiently. Spencer was a little slow in the mornings. 

"...Yes?"

"Okay then," Brendon said, vindicated, and turned back to her cereal. 

  
\--

Spencer pulled her aside before sound check. "Earlier, I mean, you guys didn't really want me to--"

  


"What? No." Brendon said, rolling her eyes and popping the cap of her Red Bull. "I was making a point. Duh."

  


"Okay," Spencer said. "Good." 

  


"Gonna get laaaaaiiiidd," Brendon hummed under her breath again. 

  


\--

"So are you going to go show your girlfriend?" Ryan said, one hand held up away from his face, examining his stage gloves for...something.

"You know the fingers were missing originally, right?" Brendon said.

"Yes," Ryan said. "So are you?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Brendon mumbled, trying to make her hair do that pointy thing that Spencer always did. She'd managed the outfit all right (Pants!) but Brendon was embarrassed to admit she was a little at a loss with the hair and makeup. It was counter-intuitive, that she ate and slept and lived with three guys and two of them were far better at using a flat-iron than she was.

"She's totally your girlfriend," Spencer said. "Do you want me to do your bangs?"

"No." Brendon said. "Yes. I don't know. Maybe."

"Come here," Spencer said, rolling his eyes. "Sit."

"What is up with you," Spencer said quietly, raising an eyebrow. "You're all twitchy."

"I don't know," Brendon said, a little plaintively. It had been an awesome idea and she was not regretting it in the_least_except, okay, Brendon was maybe--There was a lot of_something_going on when she looked at the mirror and Brendon just wasn't_sure_yet and what if Greta didn't like it, what if it had been fine when Brendon was still in, you know, girl jeans and things but maybe not so much when she was in an honest-to-god_suit_, and what if--

"Wow, I can hear you freaking out from here," Spencer said, when Brendon didn't say anything further. "Listen, you look hot. I'd do you."

"I look like a boy," Brendon said, so quiet she was almost sure she hadn't said it out loud. Which was dumb, because that was the_point_but Greta didn't like--

"Yes," Spencer said. "A very pretty boy." Spencer reached behind him for the flatiron and held it carefully away from Brendon's face, which was nice of him. Flatiron burns sucked. Not that Brendon knew what that felt like, or anything.

"But what if she doesn't--"

"Look, you have two choices," Spencer said, rolling his eyes. "You get back in the corset and I spike your hair up and you rock the demented pixie look like Amanda, or you stay in this and you let Ryan do your makeup and just deal with the fact that you're going to look like a dude for a few hours."

Brendon was silent for a few moments, contemplating. "Pants," she said finally. "I'm sticking with the pants." Besides, she told herself, it wasn't like her outfit was entirely masculine. The jacket actually suited her, even if the overall effect was strikingly androgynous. It was just a shock, going from having her tits shoved up somewhere near her neck to looking sleek and refined and, well. Rather male.

"Okay then," Spencer said. "Let's go kick some heteronormative ass."

\--

That night, the screaming during her intro to "Lying" reached a previously unheard-of fever pitch. Brendon decided to just roll with it, camping it up and stalking Ryan across the stage a little more forcefully than usual, pushing into his space and reaching out to run a finger down his cheek before pulling away at the last possible second. The screams were almost deafening and Ryan quirked an eyebrow at her, as if to say_Did you know they were going to do that?__**I**__didn't know they were going to do that._

_Huh,_Brendon thought during the chorus, staring out into the crowd as fans pushed against the barrier, straining towards the stage.

_Well, that's new._

_\--_

"So that was different," Jon pointed out, as they tumbled offstage to raucous screaming and calls for a second encore. "I think they liked it."

"You think?" Ryan said. "I thought they were going to try to climb over the barriers and eat me."

Brendon smirked, wiping off her face with the back of her arm and grabbing a handful of water bottles. "Like you'd say_no_—here, catch."

Ryan fumbled the catch, as usual. "Normal people don't throw things," he said.

"Normal people played sports at least once as a kid," Brendon said, smirking. "Getting hit with a ball doesn't count."

"Calm down, Casanova," Spencer said, pulling Brendon's sweaty top hat off and sticking it at a rakish angle on his own head. "We all know Ryan's a little special."

"Casanova,_hah_," Brendon said, sticking her tongue out at Ryan. "And you said I wasn't hot."

"You're pretty hot when you look like a dude," Ryan said distractedly, trying to find their dressing room in the maze of backstage corridors.

"Surprise of the century," Brendon muttered under her breath. She pretended not to notice when Spencer flushed a little. "Hey, how close is this hotel? Because I'm_starving_and I seriously need to eat something before I—whoa!"'

"I need to borrow Brendon," Greta said, smiling sweetly with one hand tucked in the back of Brendon's suit collar. "Ten minutes, okay?"

"Uh-huh," Spencer said distantly. "Wait, which way did Ryan go?"

"That way," Brendon said helpfully, pointing until she was forcibly tugged backwards. "You are such a_ninja_, I didn't even see you there," Brendon said to Greta after they'd gone, with something like awe. Greta was so_cool_.

Greta glanced up and down the corridor before stepping closer, but it was almost entirely empty. "Hi?" Brendon said a little hesitantly, suddenly remembering what she was wearing. She felt ridiculously overdressed next to Greta, who was wearing a soft jersey t-shirt and black yoga pants and no shoes. "Did you—do you like it? Ryan came up with the jacket and the—oh, well Spencer has the hat, but you saw it onstage--"

Greta leaned in closer and bit her lip, smiling at Brendon with a mixture of frustration and awe. "You have_no idea_, do you?" she said.

"No? Idea about what?" Brendon said, risking a glance down the hallway. They had like, eight minutes? Totally enough time for makeouts. And then the hotel, oh god, the hotel. Brendon felt a little like she was going to jump out of her skin and a little bit like she was going to throw up.

"You look—" Greta said, then abandoned the sentence in favor of nipping lightly at Brendon's earlobe, drawing the short hair away with one hand. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to get off that fucking stage," she murmured into Brendon's ear.

"So you like it?" Brendon said, breathless, one hand rubbing absent circles on Greta's hipbone. Greta's breasts were pressing into her chest and her skin was so_soft_and Brendon just wanted to pick her up and throw Greta's legs around her waist and shove them both up against the wall but that really wasn't something they should be doing in public.

"Of course I like it," Greta mumbled, kissing a slow line down Brendon's jaw, moving her head every time Brendon tried to_actually_kiss her. "You're gorgeous, why wouldn't I like it. Wouldn't you think I was hot if I put on a suit?"

"_Yes_," Brendon said desperately, tugging Greta in so she could kiss her. Greta kissed back slow and dirty and that seriously wasn't_fair_because all Brendon could think about was how much she wanted to get Greta naked right the fuck now, how Greta would look when she was arching her neck back and the feel of her under her hands and--"Oh my god yes, you would look—"

"Okay then," Greta said, pulling away reluctantly. "Then stop complaining because I like the outfit."

"I'm not complaining," Brendon said, still breathless. "Not complaining at all."

A hand waved around the corner at one end of the corridor. "Is anyone naked?" Jon called.

"No," Greta called back.

"Unfortunately," Brendon muttered.

Jon's head peeked around the corner after he got the all-clear. "Bus call in twenty," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You probably don't want to sleep in that."

"Not really, no," Brendon said, wrinkling her nose and sighing. Her life was so hard.

"C'mon," Greta said, linking her fingers with Brendon's and pulling her towards Jon. "We have a hotel room to debauch."

"Not_my_hotel room," Jon said.

\--

"One hour," Spencer said, handing her a key card and raising an eyebrow threateningly. "One hour and I am coming back in there and I don't care who is doing_what_, you will put your clothing back on so I can take a goddamn shower."

"Yes," Brendon said, tugging Greta down the hallway with one hand, backpack in the other. "One hour, got it."

"I'm serious!" Spencer called, just as they got to the door. Greta was pulling her hair back away from her face with slightly nervous fingers, smiling a little shyly at Brendon as Brendon tried to work the keycard and failed.

"So am I," Brendon said to herself quietly, totally distracted with staring at Greta. Greta reached out and gently took the keycard out of Brendon's hand, working the door with a click and pushing it open so she could step through. Brendon bit her lip and followed. "So, so serious."

\--

"So hey," Greta said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and tightening their fingers briefly. They were linked with Brendon's, cool and slightly sweaty against Brendon's palm. Greta worried at the inside of her lip. "We don't have to," she said quietly, eyelashes fluttering back and forth between Brendon's face and the floor. "I don't want to like, pressure you, earlier, I just meant--"

"Oh, hey, no," Brendon said, crossing the few feet between them, standing so she was in between Greta's legs hanging off the bed. "No no no," Brendon said, shaking her head emphatically. "I was going to--I was worried you didn't want to."

"Oh," Greta said, and grinned at her slyly, a little bit of spark coming back. "Oh, I want to."

"We're dumb sometimes," Brendon agreed. Her stomach was all twisted up in knots, but the_good_kind of knots, the kind you got on rollercoasters and those crazy drop-you-fifteen-stories-rides, right before they fell.

"Mmm," Greta said, and tugged on Brendon's hand until Brendon was mostly on the bed, sort of half-leaning over Greta, who leaned back to accommodate the new position. 

"Can we make out now?" Brendon said softly, and she knew it was totally lame that she was even asking but she'd been waiting like, forever. The worst part, (Brendon thought) was that as much as she really, really,_really_could use an orgasm (or several) she would probably have been fine with just making out, if that's what Greta had wanted.

Which was. That was dangerous territory, right there.

Greta leaned up in response, soft press of lips against lips and she opened when Brendon slid her tongue forward, giving just a little, making Brendon work for it a little more. It was slow and soft and quiet and all the things they didn't really have time for. Brendon didn't care in the slightest. 

She pressed down a little bit just as Greta pressed up and Brendon let herself sort of sink down, their curves and angles fitting together easily. They weren't quite the same height but it was good enough, it was perfect, something warm and lazy curling in Brendon's stomach as Greta shifted under her, tiny presses of her hips, kitten licks and the hint of her teeth on Brendon's neck when she leaned up. Brendon hummed quietly in the back of her throat and Greta nipped at her lower lip, biting down slowly and firmly, the corner of her mouth drawing up in a smirk against Brendon's skin. Brendon pulled back, kissed her nose, then immediately moved down to suck a tiny bruise into her skin just under her ear, where no one would see. Greta gasped a little, puffs of air rushing past her lips. "Oh," she said, one hand on Brendon's hip, thumb sweeping over the slight jut of the bone. Brendon shifted her hips a little more and then nudged Greta's legs a little farther apart, so she could get a thigh in between her legs, a little more friction, even through her jeans.

Greta slid a hand down Brendon's back firmly, possessive, and Brendon arched. She tucked her hand into the back pocket of Brendon's jeans, squeezing a little and using the leverage to press Brendon's thigh farther between her legs.

"You have the best ass," Greta mumbled against Brendon's lips, wet and slick.

"You have the best everything," Brendon said, because she had no brain-to-mouth filter and Greta was stupid-hot underneath her, all lazy extension of muscles and little shifting movements that were driving Brendon_insane. _"Can we get naked now?"

"No," Greta said.

"Oh," Brendon said. "Um--"

"I'm kidding, take your pants off," Greta said. "Duh."

"Right!" Brendon said, shifting back and forth on top of Greta and trying to wiggle out of her jeans without actually moving. "Uh. Crap."

Greta was already in her underwear, rolling her eyes. "You're hopeless," she said, tugging on Brendon's jeans that were tangled up somewhere around mid-thigh. "This shouldn't be that hard."

"This is why I never get laid," Brendon said mournfully.

"Trust me, I'm working on it," Greta muttered, and tugged again, finally getting Brendon's jeans down. Brendon kicked her jeans to the foot of the bed and pulled her t-shirt off; she hadn't bothered with a bra, reasoning that everyone she would see on the way to the hotel had seen her boobs already. Greta hadn't, though, not like this. Brendon bit her lip.

"Fuck, come_here_," Greta mumbled, pulling Brendon back down. Brendon gasped into her mouth as it quickly become apparent that they were both almost naked and Greta's skin was the softest thing_ever_against her own.

"I want--" Brendon panted, holding onto Greta's hips. "I'm going to take your bra off now." Greta's bra was perfectly nice, plain black and well cut, but it needed to go.

"Good for you," Greta said, then arched when Brendon licked a slow, hot line down her chest, stopping just above the arch of the cups to suck a bruise into the thin skin. Brendon fumbled with one hand until she felt the clasp come apart under her fingers. "Hah!" she muttered triumphantly, then pushed it away.

"How much time do we have," Greta mumbled into Brendon's mouth, shifting her hips so she could press her thigh between Brendon's legs. Brendon ground down, unthinking, barely even hearing the question.

"Half an hour," Brendon said, when she could form sentences again. "What do you want, we could--"

"I want," Greta said, and slid a hand down Brendon's stomach, rubbing at her through Brendon's cotton briefs. "Fuck," Brendon said faintly. It was the faintest hint of pressure, Greta tracing the line of her slit through the fabric; Brendon was already wet, had been ever since Greta had tugged her down on the bed and kissed her. Brendon just_wanted_, had been prepared to take care of Greta first but if Greta kept doing that Brendon didn't think she'd be able to concentrate long enough to argue.

"On your back for me, baby," Greta said softly, licking into her mouth, not letting up the teasing press of her hand. Brendon scrambled to comply.

"Oh shit, is that a thong?" Brendon said, tugging her underwear off and propping her head up with one of the pillows. Oh, man. Greta was wearing a hot-ass thong, how had Brendon not noticed this? Brendon reached out a hand, stroking over the delicate panel of lace on the side. God, Greta's_hips._ 

"It's comfortable," Greta said, and stroked one finger down Brendon's slit, teasing. Brendon made an embarrassing noise and spread her legs a little wider, silently pleading for more. Greta smiled and covered her with her whole hand, getting two fingers wet before sliding them in, angling them up on the first press so Brendon jerked and moaned. "_Shit_," she said, then jerked again when she felt Greta's tongue on her clit, circling lightly, steady pressure and tiny circles in time with her hand working between Brendon's legs.

"You're so wet," Greta said softly after a few minutes, pulling back to get a better angle for her fingers, biting her lip as she watched Brendon arch underneath her on the bed. Brendon nodded a little frantically, too far gone to reply. It felt like she was hovering just on the edge, muscles tensing and pulling tighter and tighter and god, Greta's fingers felt amazing but it wasn't quite enough. Brendon whined a little in frustration--she was so_close_, just a little more, maybe Greta's mouth again, or, or--

"_Dammit,"_ Brendon moaned, when Greta pulled away and started nipping lightly at her thighs, decreasing the pressure on her clit so Greta was just barely brushing the tips of her fingers over her. Brendon arched a little, trying to get Greta's mouth back somewhere_useful_ but Greta just held her down with one hand firm on her hip, sucking a tiny bruise into the crease where Brendon's thigh met her torso, barely inches away from where Brendon wanted her. 

"Please," Brendon said, her voice coming out too high and breathless. She could feel the way the sheets were bunching up under her hips, the way she couldn't quite keep still, the way everything was all warm and blurry at the edges and all she could think about was Greta's mouth, Greta's hands. "Please, Greta, c'mon--"

"Needy," Greta said softly, smiling against her thigh. She moved over and flicked her tongue against Brendon's clit, suckling lightly. "Ah!" Brendon said, bucking a little now that Greta wasn't holding her hips down, chasing the sensation. Greta pulled back and softly blew out a steady stream of air; she was so close Brendon could feel the heat from her mouth, the way the pressure changed slightly when Greta sucked in a breath after the exhale. Brendon didn't move, afraid that if she bucked forward Greta would make her wait even longer.

"You're being so good for me," Greta said softly, when Brendon managed to keep herself still. She leaned up and over Brendon's body, kissing her lightly just as she slid two fingers into Brendon and pressed up hard, her thumb rubbing tiny circles over Brendon's cunt. "Is this what you want?"

"Nggrgh," Brendon said, once she was capable of forming words again.

"Mmmm," Greta agreed, slowly pulling her fingers out while Brendon twitched and sighed, still riding out the aftershocks. "I agree." She trailed her hand up to Brendon's lips, pressing gently; Brendon took her fingers in with a pleased sigh. 

"We should do that all the time," Brendon mumbled, chasing after Greta's fingers when she pulled them back. "Like, every day."

"We have jobs," Greta pointed out. "And bands."

"Whatever," Brendon said, stretching and settling Greta more firmly on top of her, holding on to her hips. Greta tilted her head back, her hair falling down over her shoulders. Even through the thong, Brendon could feel how warm and damp Greta was against her thigh. She tilted her leg up, rubbing slightly, and Greta pressed down, circling her hips. 

"I think," Brendon said, leaning up so she could suck on Greta's collarbone. "We should probably trade places."

"If you want," Greta said, a little breathlessly. "I could be okay with that." 

"I want," Brendon said firmly, rolling them both over so Greta was on her back. She reached up and brushed Greta's hair out of her face, where it was tangled on her eyelashes. "Hey," Brendon said softly.

"Hey," Greta said, smiling back. Brendon pressed her thigh in a little harder, just to watch Greta's eyelids flutter closed. She knew they didn't have much time but Greta was just...god. Brendon couldn't stop touching her, all the places she was soft and warm under Brendon's hands. Brendon leaned down to trail kisses down her chest, keeping one hand spread flat over Greta's stomach, and she could feel the little shivers under Greta's skin when she bit down and Greta moaned. Brendon kept moving slowly down, using the flat of her tongue and a hint of teeth, paying close attention to what made Greta shift restlessly under her hands. It wasn't that she'd done this a lot, it was--okay. Brendon hadn't done this a lot. 

Brendon veered off course a little when she reached Greta's hips, moving over instead to concentrate on the curve of her upper thigh, enjoying the way she could feel Greta's leg muscles flex under her hand. Greta made an impatient noise and reached a hand down, tugging lightly on Brendon's short hair. Brendon glanced up to see Greta watching her, biting her lower lip. "We don't have a lot of time," Greta said, tugging gently. Brendon raised an eyebrow and licked a slow, hot line down the front of Greta's thong; Greta arched and swore, her hand tightening in Brendon's hair. Brendon allowed herself a small, secret smile.

"Why are you still wearing these," Brendon said, reaching up to peel Greta's thong down her hips, helping her guide them down her legs and then throwing them off to the side.

"I have_no idea_," Greta said, a little irritably. Brendon took a deep breath and then leaned in to taste her. Greta shifted under her, tiny presses of her hips up into Brendon's mouth; Brendon tried to stay focused but Greta was hot and slick under her tongue. Brendon let out a tiny moan, curling her tongue a little; Greta tasted amazing and Brendon just wanted more, arching her neck to lick deeper. She felt Greta thread a hand through her hair again and glanced up to see Greta flushed and panting, her lips red with teeth marks. Brendon closed her eyes and let Greta guide her to where she wanted her, licking delicately at Greta's clit.

"More," Greta said, tightening her hand in Brendon's hair when Brendon licked more firmly. Her voice was soft, broken, and Brendon had to stop for a second when a surge of want rushed down her spine, strong enough to take her breath away. Greta pressed down hard and Brendon leaned back in, stroking at Greta lightly while she sucked on her clit, alternating little flicks of her tongue with longer, broader strokes. Greta arched against her fingers and Brendon carefully slid one in, moaning at the feel of Greta around her fingers, wet and velvety-soft.

"Close," Greta said, straining up against Brendon's mouth, her thigh muscles tense and firm under Brendon's hand. "Baby, more, please, do two--_Fuck_," Greta said, her voice cracking on the last syllable as Brendon switched to two, pressing up like Greta had done to her, overwhelmed by the way Greta's body was drawing her in, the tiny tremors she could feel under Greta's skin. Greta moaned low and loud, throwing her head back and Brendon closed her eyes and pressed up harder and god, Greta was so gorgeous like this, shaking apart under Brendon's hands--

The lock clicked.

"Jesus_fuck,_" Spencer said faintly, from the doorway. Brendon's eyes flew open, horrified. Oh god, the clock, she should have been watching the clock--

"Huh," Jon said thoughtfully, from somewhere in the hallway. "That's pretty hot." 

Brendon wanted to say something,_do_ something, cover them up somehow. but she was absolutely frozen in shock. 

"Get the fuck out," Greta snapped, still working her hips up. "We're busy."

"I can tell," Ryan drawled, and Greta reached over to the nightstand and threw Spencer's copy of_House of Leaves_at his head. The door closed with a shout and a thump. "Baby, don't_stop_," Greta moaned, when Brendon was still trying to process what the hell had just happened; Brendon leaned back down, twisting her fingers a little and sucking hard on Greta's clit; Greta came with a breathy moan and Brendon watched, fascinated, as Greta slowly came down.

"Wow," Brendon said, eyes wide. She wanted to say something about how beautiful Greta looked, how fucking hot it was to feel her clenching around Brendon's fingers, but what came out was, "You scared away_Spencer_."

"They had it coming," Greta said, rolling her eyes. "Your band needs to learn to knock." She tugged on Brendon's hair gently and Brendon went willingly, crawling up the bed so she could kiss her.

"You're awesome," Brendon said softly, a little shy, after they'd gotten distracted all over again and wasted another fifteen minutes just making out.

"Yeah," Greta said, smiling into Brendon's mouth, rubbing a soothing hand over Brendon's lower back, just at the dip of her spine. "You too."

Brendon bit her lip, screwing up her courage. "Be my girlfriend?" Brendon said, not daring to look at Greta's face. "I mean. If you wanted to."

Greta laughed, low and delighted. "I kind of thought we were already," she said, smiling. "But sure. If you want to make it official."

"Oh," Brendon said, a grin breaking out on her face that she couldn't seem to control. "Okay. I didn't know if you--"

"I did," Greta quietly. "I do." 

There was a knock on the door. 

"So hey." Jon said. "Spencer kind of wants his room back. If you're done being naked and all."

Brendon rolled her eyes. "Spencer can't ask me himself?" Brendon said. 

"You threw a book at his head," Jon pointed out. "I don't think he likes you very much right now."

"_I_threw a book at his head," Greta called out. "Get your facts straight, Walker."

There was silence from behind the door, which was probably Jon shrugging and forgetting that they couldn't actually see him. 

"We're coming," Brendon said, rolling off of Greta with a sigh. "Give us five minutes and then Spencer can have his precious shower."

"Oh, I think he's showering in my room," Jon said helpfully. "I mean. He's in there with Ryan, it's kind of been a while. I've just sort of been wandering around."

Brendon raised an eyebrow at the door in disbelief. "...Right," she said, after a pause. Greta's mouth was pursed, like she was trying not to laugh. "Well, give us five minutes and then you can come hang out in here with us."

"Okay," Jon said easily. "That would be cool."

"That's okay, right?" Brendon said, glancing over at Greta. "If Jon chills with us for a while?"

"Totally okay," Greta said, smiling, pulling her t-shirt on. "Since now you're my girlfriend and all."

"Awesome," Brendon said, and went about finding her pants.

♥


End file.
